


Trials and Errors

by ashtraythief



Series: Underneath 'verse [6]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternative Universe - FBI, Jensen Campbell hissy fit, M/M, POV Outsider, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:30:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtraythief/pseuds/ashtraythief
Summary: Special Agent Charles Whitfield thinks he’s finally found a way to put Jared Padalecki behind bars. He’s wrong. In the aftermath, Jensen worries and Campbell throws a hissy fit. I.e. a day in the life. In the end, it all works out.





	Trials and Errors

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Underneath verse. Set shortly after Matters of Trust, in which Jared tests Jensen’s loyalty, Jensen passes the test, but there’s another FBI agent undercover who doesn’t pass the test. What happens here is briefly mentioned in Tightrope but the idea was too much fun to pass up on.
> 
> This is a work in my ongoing effort to fill in the blanks of this verse. But I promise, I only have one more of these (at least right now....) before I start moving the story forward again. Right now, I'm planning three more timestamps until I start on a proper sequel with the document name Last Op (yes, I'm totally aware that I'm stalling with all the timestamps and no, I don't want to think about that yet. It's bad enough I have a document with a few sentences in it already).
> 
> Many thanks, flowers and chocolate to ilikaicalie for being an outstanding beta!

 

Special Agent Charles Whitfield’s phone rang at three am. He woke up to the shrill sound coming from his bedside table. Blindly, he grabbed his phone and scrunched up his eyes to check the bright screen. Unknown number.

“Whitfield.”

“It’s me.”

Charles recognized the voice immediately. He sat up in bed and turned on his bedside lamp.

“Are you in trouble?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“No. But we should meet.”

Charles rubbed his face. “Now?”

“There’s a diner on sixth. Norma’s. Be there in half an hour.”

Dial tone.

Well. This was interesting. Special Agent Hoflin had only been undercover with Padalecki’s organization for three months and he already wanted to meet. Despite the Director’s reservations, Charles had fought hard for Hoflin to go in. The man came from a criminal family, so he knew the underworld, but he was as straight as an arrow. He was ambitious too, and Charles had a rapport with him. Director Morgan had eventually agreed and now, it was paying off.

Charles went into his bathroom to splash water onto his face and get dressed. He had a feeling this was going to go well.

 

Norma’s was in a dark stretch of the street, flanked by rundown buildings that certainly didn't have any surveillance cameras. It wasn’t busy this time of night, but frequented well enough to explain two strangers sharing the counter. It was a smart spot.

Hoflin was sitting at the corner of the counter. He was sporting a goatee and his blond hair was longer than when he’d started his assignment. He looked seedy, but his pants and leather jacket were well-fitting and of a good quality. Padalecki and his crew appreciated it when people dressed well and Hoflin had adjusted his wardrobe accordingly. With his current look, he fit right in.

Charles took a seat two chairs down from Hoflin. A tired, middle aged woman came over to take his order and Charles asked for a coffee.

“Saturday,” Hoflin said, talking to the waffles on his fork. “A big shipment is coming in. It’s important enough for him to go personally.”

The waitress poured Charles a cup of coffee and he busied himself with sugar until she was out of earshot again. This was huge. Not just a deal in Padalecki’s name. No, he’d be present in person. Tying Padalecki to his illegal activities might actually be in reach.

“You sure?” Charles asked into his cup. They couldn’t screw this up.

Hoflin cut up the rest of his soggy looking waffles. “Chad asked me to come. Rosey has something else to do, so they’re short on men. And ever since I helped him ditch the cops after he pissed against the DA’s car, he really likes me.”

Charles suppressed a snort. Murray was known for his drunken exploits, but that had taken the cake. The DA had been furious, but she was a smart woman and she knew it wouldn’t help to press that incident. They needed to keep their eyes on the prize and that was Padalecki himself. If Hoflin could deliver…

“What’s the plan?”

“Warehouse,” Hoflin said quietly. “Seller is bringing the shipment in a big rig. They’re meeting at midnight.”

Charles took a sip of his coffee. “You have an address?”

Hoflin put a few bills down on the counter, then pushed his unused napkin towards Charles. He stood up, nodded to the waitress and left without sparing Charles another glance.

Charles surreptitiously checked the diner, but no one was watching, so he leaned over and pulled the napkin towards him. When the waitress came over to pick up Hoflin’s plate, Charles smiled at her.

“Do you have any pie?”

She nodded. “Apple and cherry.”

“I’ll have a piece of cherry pie then,” Charles said. He felt like celebrating.

 

The next morning, he called for a special Task Force meeting. It was their first real opportunity in months and the excitement was palpable around the room.

“Alright people,” Morgan called them to order. “We’re gonna play this as close to the vest as possible. I don’t want another screw up. If this is good intel, it could be the best opportunity we’ve ever had.”

“If this is good intel?” Charles asked indignantly. “Hoflin is an excellent agent. If he says there’s a deal, there’s going to be a deal.”

Morgan crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure that’s true. But we can’t be sure that Padalecki isn’t playing him. I’d like to shake a few other trees, double check.”

“Sir, with all due respect,” Rhodes interjected, “if we spook him, and he blows the whole thing off or doesn’t show, we’ll have nothing. Again.”

Morgan grunted. Tal, who had been sitting next to him, quietly typing away on her laptop, spoke for the first time. “He’s right, Jeff. I know Hoflin, he’s meticulous. And we know that Murray has been talking to someone new the past month. This could be it.”

Charles wasn’t sure why the Director was so reluctant, but then again the backlash after the last failed raid had been brutal. Maybe he was just trying to cover his bases.

“Alright,” Morgan finally said. “Let’s put a plan together. And nothing leaves this room. We’re not even talking to the swat team before Friday.”

There was general agreement around the table. They still hadn’t figured out who had warned Padalecki the last time, so they would have to extra careful.

But Charles had a good feeling. This time, they’d get Padalecki.

 

 

They were in place hours before the set meeting time. They weren’t taking any chances.

Finally, Padalecki’s sleek Audi showed up, his driver in the front as always. Padalecki got out first, then Murray followed. From the car pulling up behind them, Hoflin and Abel emerged. Hoflin looked relaxed, but he chanced a look towards the warehouse where Charles and Kurt were holed up.

“Look away, you idiot,” Charles bit out.

“It’ll be fine,” Kurt said. “Padalecki and Murray didn’t see anything.”

Charles looked back to Padalecki, who was the picture of relaxation. When Padalecki got his phone out of his pocket, Charles adjusted the directional mic.

“Jensen is waiting at the club.”

Jensen Campbell, the art thief who’d become Padalecki’s steady boyfriend. Charles still thought there was leverage there. The two of them had been dating for about a year now and Padalecki hadn’t tired of his toy yet. Campbell must be phenomenal in bed.

“He says to hurry,” Padalecki continued, humor in his voice. “Apparently he made friends with a bachelorette party.”

Murray let out an obscene groan. “Oh man, bachelorettes are my favorite. We need to hurry this shit up. Where’s the fucking truck?”

Padalecki snorted. “I still don’t know how I feel about Jensen being your wingman.”

“Joyful,” Murray said decidedly. “Nothing but joyful. You want me happy, right?”

Padalecki made an affirmative noise.

“I swear, I’ve never had so much good sex. Jensen is like the god of wingmen.”

“Never thought you had trouble hooking up before.”

“Yeah, but this is different.” Murray sounded almost wistful. “Before, I hooked up with any girl who’d take me. But Jensen…. he picks the quality women, you know? They’re smart and sexy and it’s like I fall in love every night. It’s crazy.”

Padalecki laughed. “Watch out, next thing you’ll fall in love for real.”

There was a short break before Murray answered. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Seriously?” Padalecki asked sharply.

“Hey, anything could happen.” Murray sounded defensive.

“What about…” Padalecki trailed off, not finishing the question.

Murray shrugged his shoulders.

In a gesture of comfort, Padalecki squeezed Murray’s shoulder. “Offer still stands, you know.”

Murray gave Padalecki a look filled with disdain. “As if I’d ever leave your sorry ass. You’d be lost without me.”

Padalecki let out a short laugh. “You wish.”

Pointing a finger at Padalecki, Murray just nodded emphatically. “I know so. Though I have to say…”

“What?”

“Well…” Murray dragged the word out. “Jensen’s real good with the ladies. Like he’s good with people in general, you know.”

Padalecki shot Murray a piercing look. “I know.”

“Then maybe you should start using that,” Murray suggested. “Just saying, you know. He’s a smart cookie. And it’s not like he doesn’t hear enough stuff anyway.” He made a sweeping hand motion. “Just talk to him every once in a while.”

Padalecki looked thoughtful, then he shook his head. “I know I can trust him, and I know he wants this but I still don’t know if he’ll stay.”

“He has so far, hasn’t he?” Murray asked, unexpectedly sincere.

“Yeah, he has.”

“Even though he’d now have the perfect opportunity to sell some good info.”

Padalecki nodded. “Yeah. But when I took him out for a ride and showed him the abandoned drop point—it was good.”

“Good?” Murray said with a lewd smile and waggled his eyebrows.

Padalecki hit him upside the head. “He wants to stay. And we definitely made progress.” Padalecki huffed. “He finally admitted that he’s pissed that I haven’t trusted him and that he actually wants to know what’s going on.”

Murray raised his eyebrows. “I thought it was all just boring mob stuff? Since when is your business interesting to him?”

Padalecki grinned. “Oh, I’m sure he still thinks it’s excruciatingly boring. But he doesn’t want to be kept in the dark anymore.“ Then Padalecki’s expression sobered. “I’m just not sure if it’s enough for him to stay.”

“I have a good feeling about it.” Murray pursed his lips. “And you know, he loves me. I’m his best friend.”

Padalecki snorted.

Murray grinned. “And hey, as long as you let him do what he wants, he’ll stay.”

Padalecki let out a harsh laugh. “He’s gonna give me gray hairs.”

“I’m sure they’ll look very distinguished.” Murray’s phone started ringing and he answered it. “Truck’s on its way,” he said after he ended the short call.

Next to Charles, Kurt answered a call in his comm. “A big rig just got off I-94.”

“Alright.” The director’s voice was a deep rasp over the comm. “Everybody look sharp.”

Everything went according to plan. They stayed hidden until the truck pulled up, watching, waiting. Charles couldn’t believe his luck when Padalecki personally shook hands with the driver and then went with Murray to inspect the merchandise.

“Looks good,” Padalecki said, surveying the dark interior of the truck.

Murray jumped up on the cargo area and opened a box. He took out a short rifle, equipped with scope and sturdy shoulder piece. He held it up, aiming it around the area until he pointed it at Hoflin and pretended to pull the trigger.

“Hell yeah,” he yelled. “Jared, this is awesome quality.”

Padalecki rolled his eyes but he looked fond. “Alright, guys, unload the boxes. We’ll keep it here until we need it.”

Hoflin was one of the first to move in, unloading boxes. Charles thought he looked uneasy, but he was about to get arrested—very harshly so it would look real—but Charles hadn’t expected him to be such a baby.

“Where’s the money transfer?” Morgan asked over the comms. “I want to catch him during the transaction.”

But the driver was already going back to the cab of his truck and Padalecki's people continued to unload the boxes.

“I don’t know,” Charles said, “maybe he already paid or he wired the money. Either way if we don’t move now…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Morgan grumbled. “Alright everybody, on my command.”

Charles looked up and he saw Hoflin shaking his head at no one in particular. What the fuck?

Murray walked over to him. “You okay?”

Hoflin nodded. “Yeah, just can’t believe we—”

Another guy moved in the line of the directional mic so Charles didn’t catch the rest, but it was too late anyway. Morgan had given the signal and they were moving in.

Simultaneously, they advanced from all sides. Morgan announced their presence and while Padalecki and his men looked surprised, there was no opposition. They all raised their hands and Padalecki stepped towards Morgan, calm and unafraid.

“Director Morgan, what is this?”

“You’re going down, Padalecki,” Morgan said with a dark grin, and then he nodded towards Rhodes. “Arrest him.”

Murray was protesting loudly, demanding to see a warrant and charges.

“Morgan, this is ridiculous, even for you.” Padalecki said, “I told you a long time ago, you should just leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t do that. And I can’t pass up an opportunity like this,” Morgan said with fake regret.

“An opportunity like what?” Padalecki’s voice was still calm and collected, but there was a distinctly displeased undertone to it when the agents handcuffed him.

Charles kept an eye on him, but he went over to where Hoflin was getting arrested.

“Get me out of here,” Hoflin bit out. “Now.”

“Don’t worry, we’re taking you all in.”

“No, you don’t get it. Chad knows it was me.” Hoflin stopped, his face freezing.

Charles followed his eyes and saw Murray, handcuffed and stoic in Steen’s grip. Murray was looking straight at Hoflin, eyes hard.

Hoflin swallowed. “Get me out of here. I'll tell you everything I learned, but you need to get me into witsec immediately. I need to leave town tonight.”

“I'll do what I can. But Padalecki will have other priorities. And Murray can't get you from jail.”

Hoflin’s laugh was hollow. “You can’t hold them for buying toy guns.”

Charles stomach dropped. “What?”

He stared at Hoflin in horror when he heard Morgan echo his sentiment. “What the fuck is this?”

“As I’ve been trying to tell you,” Padalecki said, voice now very amused and carrying loudly through the warehouse. “I’m not doing anything illegal, I just personally came to oversee the shipment for our Christmas party entertainment at PadaSystems.”

Murray cackled. “Didn’t you know, Morgan? Laser tag is all the rage.”

Charles thought he was having a very bad dream when he watched Morgan pull out gun after gun and now that he was closer he could see what they were. Toys. Fucking toys.

Then a car drove into the warehouse and before anyone could stop him, Mark Sheppard, the world’s seediest lawyer stepped out.

“Where’s that warrant?” He asked in his annoying British voice and it went downhill from there.

They tried to keep them—they were all armed, there had to be something they could make stick—but Padalecki and his people weren’t worried. Charles knew that Padalecki had a permit for concealed carry as did most of his people and none of them had been stupid enough to bring more than a handgun. It was as if they'd known. They watched in smug amusement as the FBI searched the entire shipment and found nothing. Padalecki had the nerve to actually make a call to his boyfriend while he was waiting.

When Morgan finally declared the raid over and they prepared to depart, Padalecki came over and clapped Morgan on the shoulder. It looked friendly, but Charles was watching closely and he saw the dents Padalecki’s long fingers made in Morgan's suit jacket.

“I have been very understanding in the past concerning your interest in me. I know that you're under a lot of pressure from the bureau and I know that you have a very misguided conception of my impact on this city. And I have been hoping that if you dig deeper into my activities you'll see the positive influence I have. Despite this further…” Padalecki’s mouth twisted into a condescending smile. “...Annoyance, I am prepared to not burn any bridges. Yet.”

The little shit. Charles’ hands balled into fists.

Morgan's eyebrows shot up. “Are you threatening me?”

Padalecki looked almost regretful. “I’m just giving you the facts. Dealing with you in a courteous fashion is costing me a lot of money.”

“You call this courteous?” Morgan asked.

Padalecki gave him a thin lipped smile. “Trust me, you don't want to see anything else.”

“Is this another fact?”

“It is.”

Morgan nodded, then stroked his short beard. “Then let me give you some facts. You break the law. I don't care what you think you do to keep this city under control, because your control is not the law. And you don't get to make the call what is.”

Padalecki’s nostrils flared.

Morgan stepped up to Padalecki until they were almost nose to nose. “You are a fucking criminal and I will throw you in jail. Where you belong.”

For a moment, Charles thought Padalecki would lose it. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his eyes were ice cold.

Then he relaxed and gave Morgan a full dimpled smile. “You try your best. But if you cross the line, it's war. Just consider that.”

He reached out and patted Morgan on his shoulder. “And of course, I can't let this one go.” He waved his hand in a motion that encompassed the truck and the warehouse. “Although I am prepared to take it easy on you, as a sign of good faith, if you will. Think about it.”

“Keep dreaming,” Morgan said. “One day, boy, you'll make a mistake and I'll pin you to the wall like a fucking butterfly.”

Padalecki threw his head back and laughed. “You should look up what happened to the last man to call me a boy. Allegedly.” Then Padalecki turned around. “Alright, let's go everyone.”

For a moment, Morgan stared after Padalecki. Then he turned, eyes searching until he found Charles.

Shit.

 

 

The music in the club was loud and thumping, but the back area with Jared’s lounge had no speakers, so it was actually possible to carry on a conversation. Gen was sitting next to Jensen, sipping her Johnny Walker Blue while Jensen was on his second beer. He always had beer when he was drinking with Gen, because even though she was tiny, that woman could hold her liquor like no one Jensen had ever met.

“I work in finance,” she’d once confided in Jensen. “Either you learn to drink with the big boys or you’re out.”

Right now, they were talking about the new exhibit the Museum of Contemporary Art was putting on. Jensen wasn’t a big fan of abstract expressionism in general, but he did have a fondness for Rothko and Jared had loaned a painting to the exhibit. The Van Gogh Jensen had stolen wasn’t the only valuable piece Jared owned, though Jared owned paintings more for their financial and societal value than really being an art aficionado. Loaning them to exhibits was part of appearing legitimate and maintaining a positive image in the public eye. Jared’s side business was an open secret, but as long as nothing was proven, there were certain politicians and people in official positions of power who didn’t mind rubbing elbows with him—especially when he donated to charity and supported the fine arts.

Lending the Rothko had actually been Gen’s idea and she was in the middle of telling Jensen all about the terribly snobbish curator who had made no secret in front of the museum director that he did not appreciate doing business with Jared Padalecki and then shamelessly ogled Gen’s ass as soon as they were in private.

Jensen snorted. “What a fucking pig.”

Before he could say more, his phone rang with the title melody of the Untouchables. Jared hated it, but Chad thought it was hilarious. Jensen just told Jared it was a reminder to be careful.

“Hey. Where are you guys?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Jared said, “but it’s gonna take a while.”

Jensen sat up straight. “I thought you guys were just picking up some stuff?”

Jared hadn’t indicated anything special going down tonight, but this was the weekend of the fake drop he’d told Jensen about. What if Jensen had been wrong and the deal was actually happening?

“We were.” Jared’s voice was surprisingly relaxed, considering something was apparently wrong. “The thing is, the Feds are here and apparently they thought we were doing a weapons deal or something equally ridiculous.”

Jensen’s heart started to beat faster in his chest. He hadn’t been the only one Jared had tested. Fuck. Jensen knew there was another agent undercover, had told Morgan that he couldn't protect him if Jensen didn’t know who he was and now…

“And what were you doing?” Jensen asked, keeping his voice calm.

“Well, you know how Gen suggested we do something really fun for the company Christmas party this year?”

Jensen hummed. He remembered a big discussion about how the Christmas party couldn’t be just a lame buffet.

“We decided on a laser tag tournament.” Jensen could hear the smirk in Jared’s voice. “And somehow the FBI thought I was buying real guns. Can you imagine?”

Jensen closed his eyes. What he could imagine was Morgan setting up an ambush, complete with stake out and swat team who stormed in only to open a truck with laser tag gear. The fallout from this would be beyond embarrassing.

“What a waste of taxpayer money,” Jensen said, and he hoped Morgan got their man out immediately. There was no way Jared didn’t know who had ratted him out.

Jared laughed. “That’s what I said. I don’t think the mayor will be happy with this.”

“Speaking of happiness, when will I see you?”

“Later,” Jared’s tone was still light but Jensen heard the undercurrent tension in it. “I have to take care of this mess. I’ll see you at the house.”

Shit. Morgan’s other agent was a dead man. After Jensen hung up, the waitress appeared. Jensen ordered a whiskey. Gen raised an eyebrow.

“Jared’s not coming,” Jensen said mulishly. “Might as well join you in the fun.”

Gen laughed and clinked their glasses together. Jensen emptied his glass and signaled the waitress for another. He needed to get through this night somehow.

 

When Willy dropped Jensen off at the house, Jared still wasn't back yet. Jensen stumbled to bed and tried not to think about the fact that his boyfriend was probably making plans to kill an FBI agent right now. The room was spinning and Jensen thought the only reason he’d be able to fall asleep was because of the amount of alcohol he’d had at the club.

 

The next morning, Jensen woke up in an empty bed. His headache wasn’t too bad but not knowing what had happened last night made his stomach cramp with nausea. Carefully, he drank the water bottle next to his bed. Then he rolled around and pressed his face into Jared’s pillow, but it didn’t smell like Jared had spent the night here. Jensen reached for his phone, but there was no message.

Hell no. Jensen Campbell was a very understanding boyfriend, but not coming home at night without leaving a message was a no go. And Jensen needed to know what was going on.

With shaking hands, he called Jared.

“Sweetheart?” Jared answered the phone, sounding slightly surprised but also intrigued. “You too naked to come get me?”

“What?” Jensen asked, brain still slightly booze-fuzzy. “No, I’m calling to ask you where the fuck you are and since when do you think it’s okay to not come home without leaving a message.”

“Jensen, I’m—”

“I don’t care,” Jensen said. He needed to know what had gone down last night, he needed to hear that Jared hadn't killed another FBI agent, and he just needed to get fucking rid of the fucking tension in his gut. “You can’t just not call, okay? You get held up by the FBI, have business to take care of but tell me you'll see me at the house. And then you fucking don’t send me a message when you fucking don’t come home? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Rustling, then, “No, I’m not kidding. But you were—”

“Don’t blame this on me!” Jensen hissed. “I offered to go with you to your stupid deal, but you told me to go ahead. You told me to hang out with Gen, you’d just take care of the Christmas party thing, you’d be right there. This is not right there, Jared!”

“Sweetheart, are you angry because you’re worried?”

“What? No!” Jensen dragged a hand through his hair. “I am angry because you didn't pick up your fucking phone, you fucking bastard!”

Jared cleared his throat, and Jensen heard it in stereo: through the phone and from the doorway.

“Jesus fuck.” Jensen was so startled he actually dropped the phone.

Jared smirked. “You were saying?”

Jensen glared. “And when did you come home?”

“Last night,” Jared said, his expression incredibly smug. “But you were sleeping so I was a good boyfriend and didn't wake you.”

“You’ve never done that before.”

Jared shrugged. “It was late and I knew I needed to get up early. It was only a couple of hours.”

Jensen deflated. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Jared said, put his phone on the bedside table and kneeled on the bed, sliding his hand under the blanket and griping Jensen’s ankle. “If you want to make it up to me, I have some time now.”

Jensen put a hand on Jared’s chest. “First you tell me what the fuck happened last night.”

“I told you on the phone,” Jared said, his hand creeping up higher on Jensen’s calf.

Jensen shook his head. “Not good enough. How did the FBI even set this up?”

“Ah.” Jared smiled. “Well, they sent in an undercover agent a while ago so I set my own trap.”

Jensen forced his mouth into a smile and Jared kissed him.

“Wait, what about the FBI agent?”

“Scurried away under a rock,” Jared said. “And I'm not going to go looking for him. It's my peace offering for Assistant Director Morgan.”

The relief at the agent’s fate was immediately supplanted by surprise. Jensen raised his eyebrows. “You don't think he'll take it, do you?”

“Probably not. But he's a good man. If he would just… Well, we'll see.”

Yeah, Morgan would never back down.

Jared’s hand on his knee demanded Jensen’s attention. “Now how about it?”

“How about what?”

“You still have something to make up to me.” Jared’s hand wandered up Jensen’s thigh.

Jensen leaned back against the headboard, spreading his legs. “And what would I want to make up to you?”

With a grin, Jared stalked up Jensen’s body. “Yelling at me?” He pulled the blanket away. “Calling me names?” He nosed behind Jensen’s ear. “Believing the worst?” Jared bit into Jensen’s neck and Jensen melted back into the pillows. Now that he knew no one had died, he just wanted to relax and ignore the fallout of last night's raid.

Then Jared gripped his hips and flipped them around, maneuvering Jensen into his lap. “Well?

Jensen scooted backward, feeling Jared’s hardness along his ass. “Well,” he said and started unbuttoning Jared’s shirt. “I guess you didn’t deserve the name calling.” He opened Jared’s shirt and slid his hand over his hard chest and down to his pants. “Or the lack of trust.” Slowly, Jensen opened Jared’s pants. “I guess I could make it up to you.”

Jared reached out and traced Jensen's mouth. “Yes please.”

The words startled Jensen. Jared rarely used ‘please’, neither with Jensen nor anyone else. It made a tenderness spread in his chest. It made him take his time, touch Jared gently and with purpose, taking him in deep and keeping him in.

Jared's breathing was hard, but his hands were soft on Jensen's face. When Jared hardened even more in Jensen's mouth, just before he came, Jensen looked up and Jared stared down at him, face open and hungry but his hands still tender even as his whole body tensed in climax.

Jensen didn't know what to do with that.

 

 

It threw him off kilter for the rest of the day. Something had changed. It wasn't until after dinner that it hit. And really, Jensen should have made the connection right away.

The test. This weekend had not only been a test for the other FBI agent but also for Jensen.

“So I passed.”

Jared looked up from his stack of papers. He looked over at Jensen and took in his serious expression.

It wasn't often Jensen saw Jared hesitate but he did now before he put the papers down. “You did.”

Jensen appreciated the honesty. Even Campbell did.

“Are you mad?” Jared asked calmly.

Jensen tried to think if Campbell would be. “Not if you’re done now.”

“I’m done,” Jared said, simply and unwavering.

Jensen looked at him and Jared held his gaze.

This was it. The final step. Jensen knew this should feel like a victory. Instead, the feeling of warmth returned.

“Good,” he said and tried to ignore how hoarse his voice sounded. He stood and took Jared’s hand. He couldn’t think now. “Take me to bed?”

Jared carelessly dropped the papers on the coffee table. “Of course, baby.”

Jared’s hand closed around his own and Jensen knew he wouldn’t have to think for the next hour. And that was enough for now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://ashtray-thief.tumblr.com/). My ask box is always open.


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